


Girl Stuff

by SweetSinger2010



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSinger2010/pseuds/SweetSinger2010
Summary: Sabine's cleaning out her stuff. Ezra makes the mistake of expressing his surprise at learning she uses "girly" things like nail polish and lotion. She happily sets him straight. Elsewhere on the Ghost, Kanan and Hera evaluate her use of a certain cosmetic item meant for lips.





	Girl Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 6/2/2017. Inspired by my ten-years-younger brother hassling me over all the "stupid makeup stuff" in our shared bathroom.

Girl Stuff

Sabine sat in the floor in the middle of the common room, her entire collection of cosmetics and hair dye spread out around her. Ezra was sprawled on his stomach nearby, childlike, lazily using the Force to pick up and examine Sabine’s things.

Three different brushes, whose intended purpose Ezra could only guess, hovered in front of him, bobbing along with his concentration. “I had no idea you have so much stuff.”

“That’s because I keep my stuff and my room organized, unlike you and Zeb.”

The Lasat, playing a solo game of dejarik, shrugged nonchalantly. But Ezra couldn’t let the dig pass. “We keep our room organized,” he said defensively. The brushes thumped softly to the floor and rolled back toward Sabine.

She rolled her eyes. “If your idea of ‘organized’ is for it to look like a junk heap, maybe.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “It’s our _own_ kind of organized. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Thankfully,” she snorted. “You’re lucky Hera hasn’t seen it lately. Now look.” She deftly changed the subject, holding up two small bottles. “What do we think of these colors?”

“Uhhhh, they’re bright?” He stared at the bottles, not at all sure what they were except that one was violently yellow and the other violently blue. “What is that stuff? Paint?”

“Nail polish,” she sighed, despairing his ignorance.

His eyes widened in surprise. “ _You_ paint your nails?”

She crossed her arms. “Don’t act so surprised. I paint literally everything else; why _wouldn’t_ I paint my nails?”

Ezra stuck out his lower lip poutily, cornered by her logic. “Weeeeeeeelllll,” he faltered, drawing out the word, trying to buy himself some time to think. “For starters, you’re always wearing gloves!” A triumphant finger stabbed the air.

“To work in,” Sabine countered, “not to cover up. Have _you_ ever tried handling explosives with sweaty palms?”

“Uh, no.”

Her head cocked to one side. “That’s because it would be stupid, even for you. Imagine Hera trying to pilot the _Ghost_ with clammy fingers slipping all over the controls. We’d all be dead.”

“Fair point,” Ezra conceded grudgingly. Then he gasped, taken aback. “Wait—does Hera paint _her_ nails, too?”

Sabine held up one finger. “Hey, Hera,” she called.

“What’s up?” Hera answered from the galley.

“What’s the name of that nail polish you got last week, the blue one?”

A moment later, Hera leaned in the galley doorway. “Mm, it was called ‘Nubian Queen,’ I think. Why?”

“Did you end up using it?” Sabine asked innocently. “I was curious about how it looks out of the bottle. Might want to borrow.”

“It’s been wearing well,” Hera said, walking into the common room. She took off her gloves, tucking them under her arm, and held out her slender hands for Sabine to examine. Her nails, meticulously shaped into perfect ovals, were coated in a subtly shimmering sea-blue. “Two coats, five days old, no chips. You’re more than welcome to use it.”

“Nice,” Sabine said, nodding. She smiled up at Hera and then winked at Ezra, who was sitting open-mouthed, staring. “Thanks.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her gaze shifted between the two teenagers at her feet. Sabine was surveying her own nail polish collection again, but Ezra’s eyes were stuck on Hera’s hands.

“Ezra,” she said, mock-serious, “if _you_ want to borrow it, too, all you have to do is ask.”

“Thanks,” he answered absently, still studying her hands.

Zeb looked up from the dejarik table, disgusted. “If he paid as much attention to Kanan’s teaching as he is to your manicure, he’d be a proper Jedi by now.”

Ezra’s head snapped in Zeb’s direction. “Hey, Zeb,” he sneered, “shut up.”

Hera rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning to leave. As she passed, she bent at the waist and picked up a small vial near Sabine’s foot. “This the lotion you picked up on Lothal?”

“Uh huh. You can have it if you liked it. It made my skin itch.”

“That’s too bad! It smells divine.”

Ezra watched, fascinated, as Hera unscrewed the cap and gently tapped the vial against the palm of her hand. A dollop of smooth, lavender-colored cream plopped out. She tucked the vial under her arm along with her gloves and gingerly pulled her sleeves up to her elbows. Walking back to the galley, she started rubbing the lotion all over her arms and hands.

“What does that stuff _do_?” Ezra asked in a whisper.

Sabine sat forward and flicked his ear. “Don’t you know _anything?_ ”

“Learning about all the different kinds of girl cream wasn’t part of my routine when I was _growing up on the streets of Lothal._ ” His expression was deadpan.

She huffed impatiently. “That’s lotion. It’s supposed to moisturize your skin.”

“But it made yours itch?”

“Guess I was allergic.”

“Huh.”

Sabine cocked her head to one side questioningly. “Why is this weirding you out so much?” Her face softened. “Didn’t your mom use any of this stuff?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, searching his memory. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “she did. But that’s different. _Moms_ are _supposed_ to use that kind of stuff.”

“Karabast,” Zeb interjected from across the room, shaking his head. “Now you’ve done it.”

“ _Different?_ ” Sabine repeated hotly, piqued. “Aaaand why is it weird for me and Hera to use lotion and nail polish?”

 “I dunno,” he hedged, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just so…so…”

“So _what_?” Sabine’s eyebrows arched high.

“Quit while you’re ahead, kid, _please._ ” Zeb mumbled under his breath.

But Ezra blurted out, “It’s so _girly_!”

Sabine made an aggravated noise. “Did you think Hera and I _weren’t_ girls?”

Ezra couldn’t get his foot out of his mouth fast enough. “Well, _no_ —”

Mercilessly, Sabine ran her hands along the curves of her trim waist and hips. “Because the last time _I_ checked—”

“Al _right_!” He interrupted, pink heat creeping up his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, you like to blow stuff up. Most girls don’t like to blow stuff up.”

“And most Jedi know how to actually _use_ their lightsabers correctly,” she retorted, a taunting edge to her voice, “but here we are.” She shook her head and turned her attention to sorting through the things in front of her. “You’re such a child sometimes.”

Ezra glared, not sure which insult to address. “You know I’m, like, only a year younger than you, right?”

Sabine burst out laughing, much to his chagrin. “It must have been a _reeeeally_ long year!”

“Whatever.”

Ezra’s attitude was sour, but he stayed in the floor and watched as Sabine went through her cosmetics, deciding which to keep and which to throw away. She had bested him in this round of verbal sparring, but he knew he could redeem some scrap of pride by taking every opportunity to annoy her as she worked.

“What’s this?” He picked up a compact and opened it.

“That’s bronzer.”

“What for?”

Sabine snatched it out of his hand. “These cheekbones won’t chisel themselves.”

“Right,” he said, as if he had a clue what she meant. He suspected she was mocking him. He got on his hands and knees and crawled over to look directly in her face. She swatted him away, but he didn’t move. “But there’s nothing on your face that looks even a little bit bronze,” he insisted.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake,” Sabine muttered. She scooted back, eyes flashing. “It’s not _actually_ bro—okay, you know what?” She took a breath to steady her temper. “Either shut up or leave.”

“Fine,” he said, plopping into a cross-legged position. He was able to keep his mouth shut for a total of two minutes. Sabine started putting everything away and a tiny glass jar caught his eye. “What’s this one for?”

Sabine visibly bristled, but she kept most of the irritation out of her voice when she answered, “It’s a lip scrub.”

Ezra’s face scrunched in confusion. “A _what_?”

“It exfoliates.”

“In Basic, please.”

“ _It makes my lips ‘kissably soft!’_ ” Sabine half-shouted, patience gone. She was quoting the product packaging, but Ezra didn’t know that. His eyes widened into moons.

“‘Kissably soft!’” He sputtered. “For _who?_ ”

Her things neatly comported into three large zippered pouches, Sabine pushed up out of the floor and turned on her heel, heading for her room. “Need to know,” she said breezily, tossing her head.

Zeb’s raspy laugh echoed in the common room as Sabine left. “She’s toying with you, kid. You understand that, right?”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Ezra said with as much bravado as he could. He sat in the floor for a moment, thinking. Suddenly, he scrambled up and ran over to Zeb, leaning over the dejarik table.

“Hey, Zeb,” he whispered, looking over both shoulders, “do you think Hera uses a thing to keep her lips ‘kissably soft?’”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “Karabast, how would _I_ know?” His tone conveyed both annoyance and idle curiosity. Then he chortled. “Guess you’d have to ask Kanan.”

Ezra’s face fell. “Okay, _eew_.”

* * *

 Hera really did love the lotion Sabine had given her. It felt cool and creamy as she smoothed it onto her arms and hands. She inhaled deeply; the scent, soft and delicately floral, reminded her of her mother. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she walked into the galley.

Kanan was at the table drinking caf and reading something on a datapad. He looked up when she sat right next to him. “Hey, you smell really good,” he said, admiration in his eyes.

“It’s this lotion Sabine gave me,” she explained, setting it and her gloves down on the table as she continued to work the emulsion into her skin. “It feels so nice and it reminds me of—of—Kanan, _what_ are you doing?”

As she talked, he had taken off his own gloves and reached for her, tracing smooth circles with his fingertips along the length of her arms. “You’re right,” he said in a gravelly voice, “it does feel nice.”

Hera’s cheeks turned a darker green, the Twi’lek equivalent of a blush. “Glad you approve,” she murmured. She flicked her eyes to his and back down again. “You haven’t held my hands in a long time.”

“Well, they’ve been busy.” He turned her hands palms-upward and Hera melted at his touch. His fingers danced along hers, stopping to caress every callus and scrape. Her skin tingled where he touched her and the light in his eyes made her feel years younger.

Moments like this reminded her she wasn’t very old at all, and neither was he.

She surprised herself and Kanan both when she sighed and said, “I get tired of it all sometimes.”

A crease appeared between his brows and he watched her steadily. “I know.” He paused. “You should take a break, Hera.”

She smiled softly and ran her thumb along his jaw. “This _is_ a break.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. She buzzed a stream of air through her lips and rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe someday, hmm? We’ll go somewhere just the two of us.”

“I like the sound of that.” His voice rumbled low. “But what about the kids?”

“They can take care of themselves, right?”

Kanan didn’t say anything, but Hera felt his muscles tense at the very idea of leaving the _Ghost_ with Zeb as the only adult. She laughed. “And _that’s_ why I don’t take a break.”

He grunted. “What are they up to, anyway?”

“The usual.” Hera’s eyes rolled of their own accord. “Sabine’s tormenting Ezra.”

“That kid,” Kanan sighed, aggrieved. “He walks right into it every time.”

Hera shifted to look up into his face. “He learned from the best,” she said sweetly.

He shook his head, pretending to be offended by the remark. “Nice.” He jerked his chin toward the common room. “So what is it this time?”

“Makeup and nail polish.” Hera glanced up and saw Kanan’s wary expression. “He didn’t think Sabine was ‘girly’ enough to use any,” she explained, supplying finger quotes.

Kanan snorted, amused by his padawan’s naiveté. “Well _that_ was a mistake.”

“Oh yeah.”

At that moment, Sabine’s voice carried into the galley. “It’s a lip scrub,” she said in answer to a query they hadn’t heard.

“Oh, brother,” Kanan mumbled.

Hera nudged his ribs and stifled a laugh. “Shh!”

“Wait,” he whispered, “what’s a lip scrub?”

“It—”

 _“It keeps my lips kissably soft!”_ Sabine shouted from the common room.

Kanan and Hera both shook with silent laughter.

“I guess Ezra had the same question,” she said, mouth twitching.

“Hey.” Kanan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. Mischief danced in his eyes. “Do _you_ use one of those ‘kissably soft’ things?”

Hera blinked, taken aback. “Lip scrub?” She ignored the heat she felt on her cheeks. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

He flashed a wicked grin, the one he saved just for her. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Wasting no time, Kanan dipped his head and Hera put a hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. His mouth found hers and she sighed audibly, sinking into him. She breathed deeply and caught the faint scent of his aftershave. It held notes of spiced citrus and something woodsy that she couldn’t quite place. It was so completely _him_ and she felt intoxicated by his closeness. She let him ply her lips with his own and she answered in kind. His hands fell low on her waist and she wound both arms around his neck, closing any gap between their bodies. He was unfailingly tender with her, but Hera wanted _more_. She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip and was pleased to hear how his breath hitched in his throat, uneven and shallow. His fingers dug into her waist and his lips moved more insistently on hers, sharing her need. It wasn’t the steamy, passionate kiss they might have shared years earlier, but something burning and steadfast. It was give and take, push and pull, implicitly trusting, intimately close, familiar and thrilling.

Slowly, Hera withdrew, giving them a chance to breathe. She inhaled dizzily, reeling. She placed her hands on Kanan’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall. “Well?”

“Mm,” he answered, running one finger along the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Kissably soft for sure. Kissable as ever.”

“Good,” she said primly. “I’d hate to disappoint.”

He drew her back in and pressed a kiss to her neck, murmuring against her skin, “You never do.”

 

 

 


End file.
